Undercover, No Longer Under Wraps
by SageK
Summary: An undercover op has some interesting consequences for Jack and Chloe.


4 Months earlier……Several hours after the end of Day 7

The incipient chaos that tended to follow a day rife with tragedy, drama and death was often a source of additional stress and work for those involved with managing said crisis's. Over caffeinated, exhausted or just plain battered personnel would begin to fade, overloaded computer systems would back up and sometimes, sometimes things would outright fail. Sometimes, these could be happy accidents.

Such was the case with the monitoring equipment that recorded the goings on in Alan Wilson's holding cell. All the logs showed was the man sitting in the room, smug and healthy and oh so sure he'd be walking out the door…then the feed fuzzed out and when the techs noticed this and then managed to reestablish the recording, Wilson was dead.

The only two who knew for sure what had happened were Agents Renee Walker and Janis Gold. Renee had been the one to actually kill Wilson and Janis, despite trying to talk Renee out of that action, covered it up by destroying the recordings. And frankly, with all they had going on, no one was really pushing to find out who had done a bit of house cleaning.

Still, Renee felt that perhaps she wasn't quite suited to continue at the Bureau and left her badge behind when she left the building. A short time later, she found herself standing in the doorway of a hospital room, peering in at Jack Bauer, who slept in the bed, and Chloe O'Brien, who sat in a nearby chair, arms folded, lecturing him.

"You'd better wake up soon, Jack," O'Brien was saying in a tired voice. "The president called me…I know that's not something unusual for you, but me, not an everyday sort of thing. She wants to reestablish the CTU. Maybe not based out of LA this time. A little too much history there. I can get behind that, but you are not leaving me to deal with a bunch of moron minions on my own…or worse, new psycho, lying, double agent types. So, you have to wake up, cause maybe you can weed out the real evil idiot crazy crazies and we can keep the good, smart, preferably durable crazies for the new CTU…."

As she spoke, one of Bauer's hands, the one closest to O'Brien, flexed as though reaching for something. Noting the movement, Chloe reached out and gave his hand a squeeze, then allowed him to unconsciously hang on to the appendage.

Though she'd known Chloe less than a day, something about the stream of consciousness babble felt comforting and familiar to Renee. _Transference_, she decided_. Jack trusts Chloe and I trust Jack, ergo_…

"If you're coming in, just do it. Stop hovering."

Startled out of her wandering thoughts, Renee entered the room and gave Chloe a smile. "How's he doing?"

Chloe withdrew her hand and settled back in her chair, eyeing Renee thoughtfully. After a moment, she pronounced, "The treatment worked. He's going to be…he'll recover. He just doesn't seem to feel like waking up just yet."

Heaving a sigh, Renee nodded, "Well, it was a hell of a day."

Shifting her eyes back to Jack, Chloe grumbled, "And still it wouldn't even make Jack's list of Top Ten Horrible, Soul Crushing, PSTD Inducing Days Ever…Hell, I don't think it'd make my list."

Dragging a chair over beside Chloe's, mindful not to attempt to usurp the hacker's position closest to Jack, Renee said, "So I guess working at the CTU hasn't just been on laugh after another."

Again, Chloe let her gaze drift from Jack to Renee, then said, "So, what happened to Wilson?"

Renee paused. Jack had told her to do what she could live with. She was fairly sure he knew she wouldn't be able to let him walk. His death was the only acceptable solution to the situation and she found that she was actually all right with having his blood on her hands.

"He's dead," she said simply, in a tone that invited no further questioning, though she doubted the other woman would ask.

Instead, Chloe nodded. "Good."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, watching the steady rise and fall of Jack's chest.

His hand clenched again and Chloe slid her palm into it. Without looking up. Chloe asked, "So, what're your plans?"

"What?"

"You know, your "We saved the country and possibly the free world as we know it! No one will ever know the sacrifices I've made and God I'm exhausted and over worked and want to cry and not be responsible for everything" plans."

Renee blinked. "I don't really have any plans that fit that criteria," she informed the other woman. "Though I am making a career change."

"Ever thought about the CTU?"

"Considering it was closed a few years ago, no."

"Think about it."

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4 Days Ago……………….

Chloe O'Brien peered into Agent Renee Walker's temporary office at 26 Federal Plaza in New York City and saw the other woman peering into a box with marked distaste. Entering, she said, "Times like this make me so glad I'm not a field agent."

Scowl etched into her flushed face, Walker said, "It's payback for leaving the Bureau. I mean, look at the rest of the team they have us working with! 2 agents who look like they're white knuckling it until retirement, a kid with a cast on her wrist, recovering from surgery and a very angry pregnant woman. So, of course, it's me who has to go undercover."

Though Walker, Chloe and Jack were technically CTU agents, the new office, located in New York as well, had yet to be opened or fully staffed and thus they had been seconded to the FBI until CTU was up and running. The cases they'd been handed so far hadn't been too taxing, which was just as well, Chloe though. A few softball type cases would help with Jack's stress levels and allow them all a chance to settle into their new lives in the Big Apple.

The transition time was something Chloe appreciated, as she had to think about how everything effected Prescott as well as herself. At least Morris was around to help keep an eye on their son, and, though her ex had moved across the country to be near by, he had no intentions of returning to the employ of the CTU. In fact, the revelation that Chloe had accepted the job without even discussing it with him was, according to Morris, the final nail in the coffin that contained their relationship. It was all very cordial though, Chloe often found herself surprised by that fact and had been grateful when Morris agreed to the move. She dreaded the idea of a long, drawn out custody battle.

When she had said as much, he had just shrugged and said he'd never try to take Prescott from her, no matter what their relationship status was. Then he had almost laughed and said, "Besides, I can only imagine what would happen if I ever tried anything like that. You'd track me down and I know no one would find the body after Bauer got finished with me!"

It was said in such good humor that Chloe had laughed as well. Upon reflection, they realized the reason things had gone so smoothly was because they were both aware the relationship was not working. But they could be, and were, friends, for the sake of Prescott and themselves.

Renee's move had been a bit easier, as she had only herself and her apartment to pack up and ship across the country.

Jack, having been more or less nomadic for the past several years, simply picked up his bag after being released from the hospital and was ready. Chloe was sure he would have disappeared for a while again, but Kim had asked him to spend some time with her. It was good they were trying to patch up their relationship.

Approaching and peering into the box, Chloe said, "You're not going in alone. Jack will be there too."

"Fully dressed!" Renee growled, then, wincing, pulled a scrap of fabric out of the box and shook it at Chloe. "Look at this! I had scrunchies that were made out of more cloth than this!"

Chloe accepted the offending bit of apparel and considered it. "I'm pretty sure there's no actual cloth in this."

"Not helping," Renee grumbled, then began stalking around her office, hand pressed to her stomach. "I actually feel sick to my stomach over this."

"To be honest, you don't look that good," Chloe told her, taking in her pale face and slightly sweaty sheen. "You might want to go rest for a bit."

Renee just blinked at her before turning and heaving violently into a nearby waste bin. When she finished, she groaned and wrapped her arms around her middle tightly. "This is so not good," she muttered, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor. "When I can walk again, I think I need to go to medical." Picking up the phone, Chloe said, "I'm just gonna give them a call…."

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2 Hours later……

Jack and Chloe stood in a briefing room, facing their temporary FBI support team, grim faced due to the news they were about to impart. "Agent Walker is in the hospital. She has Appendicitis and will, obviously, be unable to take part in the Op as planned," Jack said, watching as a few people shifted through their briefs in order to figure out a way around this bit of trouble.

Agent Horace Stone gave a grunt. "Ain't gonna work without a girl," he said of the plan.

They had been setting the wheel in motion for weeks now. Jack was posing as a sleazy arms/narcotics dealer who worked out of a particularly unpleasant strip club. Their source, the clubs owner, a criminal in his own right but not a terrorist, pointed Emery Lee, a white supremacist domestic terrorist type, in Jack's direction, as Lee had come into possession of some product he had no real idea how to move. They were unsure what said product was, but it could not be good.

So they had set up a meet at the club, Lee, his Lieutenants and his girl, were to meet up with Jack and Renee, who was posing as Jack's own significant other, a stripper at that very club. Lee himself was known to be a bit on the dumb and easily distracted side, so Renee was to distract the men long enough for trackers to be placed discretely on them or, if things went well, get Jack and herself invited back to their place for a party. The Intel they could find was that the product was there and once that was confirmed, the tac team would descend and clean the Op up.

But with Renee out of the picture things could get a bit dicey.

"How broken is that hand?" Chloe asked Agent Zoë Quinton, the young agent with the casted arm. "Cause the pole dance routine Renee was learning didn't look too hard. Other than the hand, you look healthy. Like you could learn it, no problem."

Quinton frowned. "I can't dance. And my arm is very broken. They put pins in my wrist two weeks ago."

Andy Ruiz glanced at Tessa Mars. It was brief and he tried to cover it by looking at the clock, but she caught him and sneered, "I'm seven months pregnant. No way."

The room was quiet for a moment as they waited for the mood to settle, then the air was filled with grumbles and shifting papers an the taps of fingers on keyboards. It was then that Chloe felt Jack's eyes on her, that strange awareness of him that she had developed over the years kicking in.

Turning to him, she asked, "What, Jack?" His blue eyes were speculative and she was shocked when they darted up and down her frame. "The routine didn't look that hard," he said softly, repeating her earlier words in a soft tone that always sounded seductive, no matter the context. The man had a sexy, sexy voice. It was just a fact one had to accept when one worked with Jack Bauer.

"Not really," she said before it sank in exactly why he was asking her that question. "Jack…."

He held up a hand and stepped into her personal space, drawing her away from the others to speak more privately. "I know you don't like field work, Chloe," he said, placing a hand on her upper arm gently. "But if you think you can do this, I really need you out there with me."

Now how was she supposed to form the completely rational response of "Hell, No!" when he asked her like that. Before her better sense could intervene, she found herself nodding and saying, "Okay, Jack. I can do it."

Well, shit.

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Never before had a Brazilian wax been a requirement for any job Chloe had ever held. Or meticulously maintained eyebrows, fake nails (and dear God, did they make typing a bitch) and hair extensions. Spas and salons had never been her idea of a good time, but soon after she had agree to participate more directly in the mission, Zoë had gathered her up and hustled her off to some torture chamber disguised as a high end salon to be primped, plucked, waxed and hair weaved to within an inch of her life.

When she finally escaped, back to the office, new fake hair hastily pulled up in a clip at the back of her head, she was faced with the box. The dreaded box that Renee had been perusing when her Appendix decided to flare up. The box that contained articles of clothing too small for most toddlers.

Peering distastefully at the small pile of synthetic fabric, Zoë said, "I never thought I'd be grateful to have a broken arm."

"I don't think I can do this."

"You'll be fine."

"No, seriously, this is a bad, bad idea," Chloe said, uncharacteristically showing her fear about this particular assignment. "We should figure out some way to postpone."

"Gotta be Friday, Chloe, you know that."

"Then you do it. We can work the arm into the whole story. Say you're getting smacked around by a pimp or something."

"In undercover work, there's a saying about creating a character's back story. KISS. Keep It Simple Stupid. Plus, your boobs will look much better than mine in that get up. Don't you like the stripper cop costume in all it's kitschy glory?"

"I can deal with the outfit. It's the taking it off I have a problem with."

"Relax. If you start feeling nervous, just picture your audience naked too."

_Yes, because picturing a whole bunch of strange, pervy men, not to mention Jack, naked is just the thing to ease my mind, _she muse with a snort, then said, "The music doesn't even match the stupid fetish wear."

"Don't think most jiggle bar connoisseurs care about a perfect synthesis of audio and visual stimuli," Zoë said, tossing one final look at the box. "I'm gonna head down to the gym, set up the pole and kick out potential gawkers."

The younger woman left as Chloe pulled the string bikini style top out and held it up. The material was cheap, but the navy blue was a fairly nice color and there were some cute details.

The sound of Jack clearing his throat from the doorway made her look up. "Heard you were back," he said by way of greeting as he stepped towards her, then seemed to take stock in her appearance. "The hair's different. Nice, but…."

"Not me," she agreed, brandishing her manicured nails and shaking them in his face. "Look at these! Not very keyboard friendly. And I poked my eye when I tried to scratch an itch."

Jack caught her flailing hand and brought her fingers up to inspect them. His lips quirked up into a small smile, and he met her eyes over her knuckles. "They could potentially be classes as a weapon though," he joked, which in turn made her smile. It wasn't really the joke itself, cause it really wasn't that funny, but the fact that he was even trying to make a joke was progress. The good humor was fleeting however as he pressed, "Seriously though, Chloe. Are you okay with doing this? I know I asked, but if you're uncomfortable…."

"I'm going to get more than half naked and dance in front of you and a room full of strangers, many of whom are criminals," she blurted. "Of course I'm uncomfortable. But, it needs to be done, so I'll do it."

A bit of color actually rose to Jack's cheeks and the tips of his ears flushed as she had her mini rant. Those penetrating blue eyes remained locked on her face though as he searched for any indication that she would be unable to bring herself to do this task that was so, so far outside the parameters of her job description. After a few moments, he squeezed her hand and gave her a nod and another tight smile.

Nodding her own head to the door, Chloe said, "I better head down and work on the dance. Zoë went ahead to clear the room, so I can see if I can even dance in these heels."

She glanced at the pair of knee high pleather platform boots with their four inch heels, sitting so innocently beside the box. Or perhaps not so innocent, if the slightly gob smacked look on Jack's face was any indication.

As he made a valiant attempt to rally his thoughts, Chloe dumped the boots and the bikini top back into the box and gathered it up in her arms. "I'll let you know how bad things are after I try this," she said, then strode out of the office before he could formulate a response.

As she rode the elevator down to the gym, Chloe let herself smile. Jack's reactions had been interesting, to say the least. Sure, maybe he was just embarrassed for her, but she didn't think that seemed quite right…Maybe this little disaster would be worth the potential embarrassment after all.

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Retreating to the relative safety of his office, Jack berated himself for not better managing his automatic reactions to the idea of what Chloe was about to do. It was different when the whole thing was just an abstract idea, a question of could she/would she, but now….

In all honesty, the fake hair and nails weren't the sort of thing he found attractive, but Chloe's honest and oh so typical annoyance over them was kind of cute. Nothing cute about those boots, though and the mental image of _his_ Chloe in those boots…..

_No! _He quickly tried to derail that train of thought. It wouldn't do for him to contemplate such things, especially before they'd be heading out on an Op where they were going to have to pretend to be lovers. Maintaining the pretense without allowing himself to pretend it was real (a concept that he normally wouldn't have entertained for an undercover Op, as the more real, the better…but this, if he let himself believe it…it would hurt all the more when they went back to their normal lives) was going to be hard enough without another fanciful image floating around his consciousness.

There was a part of his brain that kept jumping up and down like an excited puppy, yapping _Chloe's gonna wear those boots! And not much else! Chloe! _The more sensible, adult voice in his head wasn't much better, though it did try to sensor the other. Only the threat posed by Lee, his cohorts and the unknown product he was trying to sell kept Jack from having a little breakdown over the situation.

Once again, Jack had to ask Chloe to do something above and beyond the scope of her job. At least this time, no Federal Laws were being broken by them, though he was willing to bet they'd both be less uncomfortable if that was the case. Once again, Chloe was coming through for Jack, trusting him and following his lead into unknown territory. All he knew was this Op would be trying in a new, pleasantly torturous way.

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9pm Friday….Silver Bullet Gentlemen's Club

Sitting on the worn, patched vinyl seats of the "Gentlemen's Club", Jack was acutely aware that he should thank whoever made sure all field agent shots and immunizations were up to date. Over the course of his career (and life in general), he'd had the dubious pleasure of spending a significant amount of time in places that made his skin crawl, so when he thought a place felt and smelled like a Petri dish, you could be sure it was grosser than most. It almost amused him that he had to be in a place like this for something so mundane as a drug bust or weapons trafficking conviction.

Over the small comm link in his ear, he could hear Chloe hissing about any number of things as she sat somewhere out back. As he waited for Lee to show, he'd been treated to a litany of amusingly cutting observations about fake breasts, make up that looked to be applied with a trowel and some very interesting piercing. The very Chloe ramble seemed to help both of them relax and almost forget that she was about to strut her stuff on stage not five feet from Jack and several criminals.

"I though my outfit was tiny." Chloe's voice echoed in his ear, making Jack glance up at the stage, where a pretty, young red head was writhing suggestively on a pole, heels and a barely visible g-string her only attire. While his reptilian brain could appreciate the display, sometimes leaving something to the imagination was to be desired.

He didn't have time to respond, because Emery Lee rolled in with his lieutenants, Clem and Billy Ray (how cliché) and his girl, Peg. All of them had that twitchy, sweaty, skinny meth head look to them. They approached the bartender, who directed them over to Jack's table.

They approached, looking around the room, eyes lingering on the dancer and slowed to watch for a moment. This made Jack want to smile. Obviously, they were not the most professional crew ever, as no one had checked exit routes and Lee and the girl were both carrying bags, making it far easier to slip them a tracker. They foolish, baggy clothing would also do to conceal a bug, at least for the short term, though it didn't seem that the men were too concerned with hygiene.

When they finally reached Jack's table, Lee eye said, "You Johnny?"

Though Jack had watched their approach, to the untrained eye it would seem the girl on the stage had his complete attention. Without looking up, Jack raised his scotch to his mouth before muttering, "Who wants to know?"

Emboldened, the tweeker plopped himself into one of the empty chairs, slung his backpack under the table and motioned for his people to sit as well. "Name's Embry Lee," he boasted, then, when Jack failed to react, he continued, "Larry over there said you were the man to talk to if I wanted to move a whole bunch of some primo shit."

Now, Jack finally looked over at Lee and sneered, "Why in the hell would I buy from you? I don't know you."

"All you gotta know is this stuff will blow your mind. It's like junk and snow mixed with some Amphetamines and meth with a Special K for that shiny happy afterglow. It's epic," Lee enthused, then glanced around the club. "Why we doing business in here?"

Jack pulled a smirk for the junkie's benefit. "I like to watch my girl perform," he rumbled, pleased when all four of his new associates relaxed into their seats.

"Aw cool," Lee said, tossing an arm around Peg. "I like to have my girl around while I work too. Ain't that right, Baby?"

"S'right," Peg said, watching the girl on stage bop along to a Britney Spear's song that was over ten years out of date. But, if the looks of her plaid skirt, which Jack thought was moor of a wide belt, the school girl kink was still alive and well.

The other two had settled in and, as the girl wrapped up her routine, Lee asked, "Yours?"

Jack hook his head. "Cleo's up next."

Chloe had Googled "stripper names" and grimly selected Cleo from the list, though she had been perturbed to discover her own names was apparently quite common in the exotic dancing profession. She had been in enough of a mood that even Stone, who, at times, seemed to possess less common sense than a lemming, knew not to joke about it.

"Okay," Lee said, turning to the stage. "Pleasure before business, I guess that's cool."

Jack just hoped they couldn't hear his teeth grind over the din of the music.

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The first chords of The Fugee's Ready or Not filtered though the club's sound system, a welcome relief to the synthed up, trashy pop that had been playing, and Jack looked up to the stage. It took all of his hard earned skill to remain externally straight faced and blasé as Chloe strutted out from the darkness, the picture of confidant sexuality in her Officer Naughty get-up. Renee had picked the costume ironically, claiming that research showed it was a common strip club theme and found it amusing. Obviously, on some level, Chloe agreed or just didn't care.

A jaunty little navy approximation of a Police lid sat atop her wild mane of hair, to which Zoë had done one of those strange, incomprehensible female things to that made it big and full and very mobile. Chloe's eye's were hidden by mirrored shades, though Jack knew they were heavily lined and made up to look smokey. Her lips, set in a serious, don't fuck with me pout in keeping with her on stage character, were dark and looked fuller than usual, though she had flat out refused the collagen injection Tessa had off-handedly suggested.

The outfit consisted of a navy blue string bikini type top, Officer Naughty stitched on a patch on the right breast. At the top of the left, where the fabric turned into string, a tiny pair of silver handcuffs dangled, bouncing with each step. What the top, if you could call it that, contained…well, Jack knew Chloe had breasts, nice ones, in fact, but she wasn't one to dress in a manner that displayed them, thus, so much skin a shock.

His eyes followed the visible curve of her breast down to the smooth skin of her stomach and the cute little belly button there. Though not possessing that hard, almost emaciated look that some of the earlier girls had been sporting, Jack wouldn't have had a clue she'd carried a baby if he didn't know better.

The waist of her own skirt/belt sat low on her hips, a pleather belt with a badge affixed several inches below her naval and an inch or so of flirty, navy ruffle below that. Below that were navy panties and a garter belt that held fishnet stockings up her thighs. On her feet were those damn, knee high boots that had been haunting Jack since he'd seen them in her office.

All in all, Jack was pretty sure this was going to kill him. And she hadn't even started to dance yet.

The scumbags they were there to meet were similarly enthralled and, managing to hang on to his wits, Jack tossed a tiny tracker into Lee's backpack. That done he looked back up at Chloe and allowed himself to try to swallow with a suddenly dry throat.

Chloe was standing in front of the pole nearest to them, mirrored gaze fixed on Jack as she extended a hand, above her head, up the pole behind her and, swaying her hips, side to side, slid up and down the pole. When she was fully upright, the second hand joined the first on the pole and she arched her back, rolling her hips a few times in an undulating rhythm that just seemed to cut off all of Jack's upper brain functions.

He gave himself a mental shake and found he'd missed some transition, as she was walking away from them, one hand still on the pole, giving a view of pert buttocks below the totally useless ruffle of skirt. She circled the pole several times, did a few little pirouettes, then began a simple dance, holding the pole in out stretched hand and bumping and grinding. Her free hand caressed her hip, thighs and stomach and Jack tracked the motions, unable to stop despite knowing she was watching him.

In a smooth motion, she snagged the cap from her head and tossed it out to him, before whipping her hair around in a move obviously learned from watching the other performers. Then she grabbed the pole in both hands and, with a little hop, spun around a few times, sliding down with each rotation till she landed in a crouch and had to shimmy her way back up.

Her back to the pole again, she slowly slid to her knees, never breaking eye contact as she raised her arms and her body swayed and rolled seductively. He was startled when she surged forward, planting her hands at the edge of the stage and put her weight on her hands, knees bent, booted feet popping up in time to the music.

Again, she pulled herself onto her knees, this time at the edge of the stage and Jack couldn't help reaching for her. He stopped short of actually making contact, common sense overruling desire, but she reached out and placed his hand low on her torso, fingers wrapped around her hip and thumb almost dipping into naval.

The tactical part of his brain recognized this as a good move, establishing him as above the "No Touching" policy, thus cementing his cred, but mostly he was marveling at the feel of her smooth, soft, unmarked skin under his palm. He caressed her side and stomach and her felt the muscles quivering against questing fingertips. When she reached up and quickly undid the strings securing her top, they never broke eye contact. Not even when she wrapped the bikini around his wrist.

When she rose gracefully to her feet, he allowed his hand to drift down her hip and thigh until his fingertips met the top of her boot. His eye's remained locked on her face as she moved back to the pole and commenced spinning and twirling again. It was a double edged sword for him. He so wanted to look down, see her breasts unbound, the ache and painful tightness below his zipper was screaming at in, but he marshaled his reserve of will power and decided that if he was going to, in this situation, give Chloe the little bit of privacy he could offer. If later they found themselves alone…well, that was another story.

The tweekers had no such respect and Jack bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smashing their heads against the table when he caught their ogling. Peg had her hand in Lee's lap, doing something Jack didn't want to dwell on and the two lieutenants were nearly as bad.

So, when Chloe's performance ended, Jack shook his head to try and regain his focus, but was quite sure he was less addled than hormonal junkies. "So, about this product…."

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The take down had been somewhat anti climactic. The tactical team followed the tweekers back to their place and raided it, recovering a vast amount of the strange new drug they were so keen to unload. In the grand tradition of soft criminals, they all practically tripped over each other, offering confessions and information for reduced sentences. Jack couldn't remember a recent days work having gone so smoothly and without disaster.

After 2am, sitting behind his desk, Jack completed the paperwork necessary to close the case file. It didn't really require much of his concentration, so he let his mind wander back to the scene earlier at the club. Just as quickly, he pulled himself back to the present, chastising himself for taking advantage of a perk of this particular operation. Still, he couldn't completely banish the memory of how Chloe's skin felt as he ran his hand over her thigh.

His door opened, breaking him out of his teasing reminiscence as the subject of said thoughts stepped into the room. Chloe shut the door behind her, then turned to face him, fingers resting on the doorknob as though it was a lifeline.

"So, that went better than my usual attempts at fieldwork," she said, trying to make a joke of things, but not truly succeeding. "Though it probably helped that the bad guys weren't exactly criminal masterminds…or, ya know, even as bright as your typical poodle."

"Poodle?" Jack's lips quirked up at the odd comparison.

Chloe shrugged. "Never liked spazzy, yappy little dogs."

Smiling now, Jack pushed back from his desk slightly and took in Chloe's appearance. She had changed out of her costume (at least he was fairly certain she had. Most of it could fit under her clothes) and into a more work appropriate pair of black, twill trousers and a soft, green, cotton shirt with a scoop neck and a delicate ruffle detail. The boots were gone, replaced by a sensible pair of black ballet flats and, though she had yet to remove the hair extensions, she had it all messily pinned up. Her face was pink, scrubbed clean of all cosmetics and she had already removed the talon-like fake nails.

She looked like his Chloe again, not the altered, undercover version that seemed wrong somehow. But know he knew how her skin felt, knew she had a cute, little birthmark on her right cheek, just above where her bottom transitioned to thigh…He knew these things. They were no longer just matters of idle speculation and that made certain things, certain feelings exponentially harder to ignore.

"You did good, Chloe," he told her, hoping she didn't notice his voice was a bit raspier than usual.

She smiled, then took a deep breath and Jack heard the audible click of the lock being engaged.

"Good?" she asked, stepping further into the room until she was standing directly in front of his desk. She placed her hands flat on the desktop and leaned forwards. "Considering how little time I had to prepare, I'd say my performance was better than good."

Jack swallowed and his eyes darted down to the smooth, pale skin of her décolletage, visible above her blouse's neckline and far more alluring than the in your face sexuality of her Officer Naughty costume. Meeting her eyes, he said, "You're right. You were…impressive."

Straightening, she tapped the desktop with one finger. "Better," she informed him, walking around the desk, trailing her finger along the polished wood. As she neared him, she laid a hand on his shoulder, lightly applying pressure and turning his chair to face her.

She was close enough that their knees brushed, and as he looked up at her, she worried her lower lip with her teeth, a wonderfully familiar gesture especially when juxtaposed with the aggressiveness she was displaying.

"Extraordinary, Chloe," he murmured, placing his hand on the desk near hers and allowing his fingers to brush lightly against hers. "Incredible."

There was a hint of hesitation in her voice when she asked, "So, you liked it?"

"Yes." The room seemed to be getting warmer, but he answered, then turned his hand to curl his fingers around hers more fully. "Truthfully though, Chloe. I like this a whole lot more."

Obviously, this was the response she had been looking for, because a smile blossomed on her face and a blush rose to her cheeks. She gripped his hand in return and said, "Good."

Then she stepped even further into his space and sat on his lap, straddling his thighs, placing one hand lightly on his shoulder and wrapping the other around the nape of his neck, allowing her fingers to play in the short cropped hair there. With a sigh, she drew his head forwards and rested her brow against his. Both allowed their eyes to close, allowed themselves to just be for a moment. Tendrils of hair that had escaped Chloe's clip tickled his cheeks and he could smell a peppermint candy on her breath. Agent Ruiz had an odd habit of handing them out to his coworkers, as though they were his grandkids, when he was in a good mood, which was pretty often. Jack had a small stash of them in a desk drawer.

Raising his own hands, he rested them on the curve of her hips, thumbs stroking a soft, random pattern on her stomach. He felt her abs contract and relax several times as his fingers brushed sensitive spots, noted one area that caused a small, pleased intake of breath and filing that away for later use.

Her face moved even closer and he could feel the faintest touch of her lips on his own when she spoke. "Jack," she said, voice soft, barely above a whisper. "It's been a long day. I think I need you to take me home. Now."

"I can do that," he replied, and couldn't resist closing his lips fleetingly on her bottom lip. It was just there, so close, and he hadn't even had to move, just clasp his own lips around it and give the tiniest bit of suction.

Chloe responded with a tiny moan that seemed to cause a significant number of Jack's higher brain functions to go off line. Reaching up with one hand, he buried his fingers in her hair and tilted her head to the side, fusing their mouths together. His tongue slid into her mouth, tasting her, ghosting over hers, flicking the roof of her mouth. She met his actions with her own, stroking and tangling and teasing. He groaned and, sliding his had from her hip around to the small of her back, pulled her against him, feeling her breasts press against his chest, her thighs parted around him, bringing her close to a portion of his anatomy that was aching for contact.

With an odd sort of noise, Chloe broke the kiss and gasped, "Not here, Jack. Not here."

Together, they scrambled off of the chair, and, as Jack snagged his wallet from his desk he said, "Who lives closer?"

Still pressed to his side, Chloe gave him a pleased little smile. "Guess you thought the kiss was good, too."

"Huh?" To his hormone addled brain, she was making little sense.

"Jack," she said teasingly, "We live in the same building."

He blinked. Then he nodded. "Very good kiss."

Chloe laughed, then began pulling him towards the door.

Jack decided it didn't matter where they ended up, as long as they were together. His life might have been a lot easier if he'd figured that out sooner.

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They chose Chloe's apartment, as she was fairly certain she had nicer bedding than Jack. Prescott was spending the weekend with Morris, so there wasn't cause to worry there, and besides, her apartment was on the sixth floor. Jack's was on the ninth. Thus, hers was closer.

The moment the door closed, the foot or so of space they had maintained during the trip (for propriety) felt like far too much distance. Jack reached out, wrapped his arms around her and drew her to him. There was a moment of hesitation on her part, still unused to this new stage in their relationship, then her arms wrapped around him and she pressed her face into the crook of his neck.

He held her like that for a long moment, and she enjoyed the feel of him breathing under her hands, hearing his heartbeat, strong and steady under her ear. Her fingers curled into his shirt, clutching the fabric and she lifted her head a little kissing the side of his throat.

She heard his sharply indrawn breath, and then his arms tightened around her, almost lifting her off her feet. The familiar sense of warmth between them, the feelings of safety and security fading into a delicious tension that all but shimmered in the air surrounding them, licking at exposed skin like flames.

This was good, this was right. Any doubts she had were just the echoing of long held insecurities and, damn it, she was done listening to them.

She kissed Jack's throat again, which prompted him to lower his head and kiss her in return. Jack was kissing her like a man who really meant it, tongue hot and insistent, hands on her back, holding her close. His body felt solid and warm against hers and she shifted her weight, stance widening slightly and he slid his muscled thigh right between hers. She could feel the proof of his desire, hard and hot, against her hip. She moved against him urgently, and a low groan rumbled out of him.

If Jack Bauer's everyday speaking voice gave her little tingles, this was the equivalent of an electric shock she felt throughout her body. She moaned with need and frustration and she thrust her hands up to short, fair hair, clutching him, kissing him harder. She felt surrounded by him, absorbed in his hot, eager mouth, his hungrily roaming hands and the distinct bulge pressing against her hip. She rubbed against his hard thigh, and he moaned again. His hands slipped down to her hips, his fingers curling into her ass, pulling her against him a little harder.

The friction of his thigh between hers felt good, and something deep inside her began to burn out of control. She whimpered, very softly, and he tightened his hands on her bottom, easily lifting her to allow her to wrap her legs around his waist. He pulled back fractionally from her mouth and murmured, "Bedroom?"

"First door on the left," she murmured, kissing from his throat to jaw to ear, and, as he carried her toward her bedroom, his lips were all over her face and throat, covering her in soft, warm, intense kisses that clearly conveyed how much he wanted her. His hands roamed over her hips, thighs and ass, caressing and squeezing, though he stumbled a bit when she rocked her pelvis into his.

She laughed slightly at this reaction, and, against her neck, she felt him smile in return. "Ha ha," he gave a good natured mumble, then she felt a jostle as his knees bumped into the side of her bed. His hands found firm purchase on her hips and pulled, causing her legs to release him.

Again, laughter bubbled up as he dropped her the short distance to the bed and she bounced slightly, allowing herself to drop back onto her elbows and look up at him.

After the Op had ended, Jack too had changed back into his own clothes. He stood between her knees, dark blue jeans and a black, long sleeved t-shirt a contrast to his faintly tanned skin and blond hair. The smile on his face looked nice and reached his eyes, something that she'd seen happen on a few occasions, most of them since their relocation to New York and their less stressful secondment to the FBI. But the softness, the air of contentment, that was new and she found she really enjoyed being the one who caused that smile.

He continued to gaze at her and, growing impatient, Chloe said, "Well? You just gonna stand there all night?"

That nice smile broadened and, in a quick motion, he was on top of her, weight supported on his forearms and body pressing hers down onto the mattress. Chloe reached her hands around his sides and flattened her palms over his shoulder blades, able to feel heat, hard muscle and scarring through the thin cotton. Warmth swirled through her, melting her bones and her muscles, heating her skin, making her nerve endings spark. He kissed her again, tongue stroking hers, teasing and caressing, and she moaned, tightening her own hold on him.

She was caught up in their oral interaction that she jumped when questing fingers slid against her stomach, under her shirt and one rough digit stroked over her naval. "Jack," she breathed, somewhere between a gasp and a laugh and he chuckled.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have the cutest little belly button?" he asked, sliding down her body and using both hands to push her shirt up and bunch it below her breasts.

"Can't say they have," she replied, craning her neck up to look at him, but relaxing as he placed soft, warm kisses on the exposed skin of her stomach. It didn't seem like a particularly mind blowing gesture, but she allowed her eyes to close as tingles coursed through her body. Almost of their own volition, her hands shot up and tried to find purchase in his short hair. She breathed in, focusing on the scent of him, a scent that was as familiar and comforting to her as the smell of coffee in the mornings.

But whatever he was doing with his lips and tongue scrambled her focus in the best way. After an indeterminate amount of time, she felt his hands on her shirt again, and her urged, "Lift up."

She raised her shoulders up off of the bed and, together, they managed to pull her top up and over her head, tossing it somewhere to the side. His mouth brushed over the swell of her breast that rose above her bra, plain black cotton and she wished she'd thought to put on something a bit sexier, but Jack didn't seem to mind. She shivered and said, "That's nice."

He lifted his head and grinned at her, a grin that somehow managed to be self-deprecating and arrogant all at once. She smiled back and gently kneaded the back of his head, encouraging him to return to his ministrations.

Jack's mouth caressed her breast, just above the edge of her bra, and warmth filled her veins. She moaned, squirming a little beneath him, and her fingers dug more deeply into his hair. His broad hands reached underneath her, fumbling at the clasp. It didn't take long for him to get the clasp undone, and the bra fell open, allowing her to shrug it down her arms and send it the way of her shirt. She heard his sharply indrawn breath.

"Chloe," he whispered. "You're beautiful."

She flushed, then felt silly that it was his words that caused the reaction, not the fact that she was lying underneath him, bare from the waist up.

Jack lowered his head and brushed a kiss over her nipple. Pleasure rushed through her veins, and she heard Jack's laughter, muffled since his mouth was still against her breast. His lips parted, warm and soft, and he began tonguing her nipple, very gently. A sudden rush of flame surged through her, and heat pooled between her legs.

"Yes," she moaned, hardly recognizing the sound of her own voice. "Yes, Jack."

Encouraged by her response, he drew her nipple between his lips and applied gentle suction. The heat between her thighs suddenly flared, and she quivered. She leaned her head back, closed her eyes, and moaned. It felt wonderful.

As he continued, his hand slipped down her abdomen, down over her trousers, and then his fingers delved right between her thighs. Her legs were already parted around his hips and he began to stroke her. Despite the twill in the way, it felt incredible.

"Ahhhhhh..." Her body arched, and she clutched at him, one hand pulling his mouth closer to her breast, the other twisting in his shirt.

"You're going to come for me," he whispered hotly against her breast. "You're going to come really, really hard."

Hearing Jack say that made her quiver harder. Her fingers dug into his shoulder. She felt the softness of cotton beneath her hand, and realized he was still entirely clothed, right down to the boots. They needed to do something about that.

His hand felt so good there, exactly what she needed, and yet...

"Off," she muttered, tugging awkwardly at his shirt. The need to feel his skin against hers was growing more powerful.

"Not yet." His voice was barely more than a whisper of liquid sex. He moved away from her breast, up her body and spoke in her ear, his hands going to work on the button of her pants. "You first, Chloe."

He pulled her slacks off and tossed them aside. Now there was nothing between them but a flimsy barrier of cotton and his hand moved against her panties (also plain black cotton, but hey at least they matched her bra), gentle but relentless.

She shuddered violently, mind was filled with Jack, the scent of his skin, the low, sexy growl of his voice, the feel of his hand between her legs, stroking her...

Her body arched, hard, feeling like an electric current was running through her and she gave a helpless cry.

"That's it," he whispered. "Come for me, Chlo."

Her muscles clenched, deep inside, and she felt little ripples of pleasure coursing through her veins. She was so close, so close....

"God, you feel good," his voice said in her ear, "Smell good. Bet you taste good, too…."

She gasped and shuddered against him, shocked by his blunt words, but undeniably turned on. It wasn't like she was a stranger to oral sex, but the idea of Jack doing it to her, his fair head buried between her legs, his tongue on her most intimate flesh.…

Her head fell back, and a choked sound of anguish rose from her throat.

Despite his words, he didn't yet make a move to take off her panties. His hand moved against the cotton faster, and suddenly she couldn't hold back her climax any longer. Ecstasy crashed through her as her inner muscles spasmed in violent contractions. She sobbed and gasped with the pleasure, clinging to Jack as she rode out the feeling.

As the tremors subsided, she sprawled on the mattress, inert, exhausted, practically boneless. But the soft rumble of Jack's voice brought her back to awareness, "You okay, Chloe?"

"Mmmm," she hummed softly and he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against his chest. She felt him kiss the top of her head and asked, "Why did you stop?"

"I figured I should let you recover a little..."

"I'm recovered." She rolled over, pressed her body to his, and nuzzled his chest. His mouth, hot and hungry, explored her throat, and his hands roved over her body as her fingers grabbed the hem of her shirt and drew that off with his eager cooperation. Then he was leaning back over her, bare-chested and so real it made her chest ache.

She wanted, needed to touch him. She lifted her hands, running them over muscles of his back, the heavy scarring, making him shiver and moan.

His hands were at her panties, rather hastily removing them, then his finger was investigating her wet flesh, teasing, stroking lightly. She shuddered, nerves still really sensitive there. But still, she wanted more than light, teasing touches. A lot more. She made a little noise of want and Jack smiled, then his finger slipped into her.

He had big hands for a man who wasn't that tall, and she could feel her body stretching as his finger filled her. He moved it in and out, very gently.

"More," she whispered.

"Yeah," he said gruffly and another finger into her, stretching her further, and began moving his hand a little harder.

A soft moan rise from her own throat and her head dropped back. Her hips lifted, meeting his hand eagerly.

"Is that good?" he whispered in her ear.

"Oh, God, yes, that's good. Very, very good."

Every thrust sent a stab of pleasure through her. She leaned her head back, moaning, but there was a thread of frustration mixed in with the pleasure, because as good as it was, it wasn't... quite... enough...

She cried out when his hand left her and she said, "Jack! What…."

The rustle of fabric indicated he was shedding the remainder of his clothing and she smiled at the ceiling when she heard him curse, probably when his pants got tangled in his boots. Before she could muster the energy to look up, his hands landed on her legs and his mouth was on her thighs, covering the sensitive skin there with licks and kisses. She sprawled on her back, her legs wide open for him. With what she knew was a silly grin, she managed to force her eyes open and looked down, eager to see his blond head between her legs.

She groaned. Between the visual and tactile stimuli, it was just as hot a sight as she'd imagined.

His lips and tongue trailed over the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, muscles twitching and she fell back against the mattress once again, closing her eyes. He kissed her, slowly and thoroughly, and she heard a low growl rise from his throat and felt the vibration all the way into her belly.

He moved a little higher, and then he was brushing kisses right over her clit. She gasped and moaned as sparks built up inside her, creating heat, generating a fire that burned deep inside her body. Then his hands were there, parting her, opening her, and his tongue stroked her lightly.

She jerked violently, memory of his low, sexy voice filtered through her mind: Smell good. Bet you taste good, too…

She was tempted to tell him to hurry up and he'd barely started.

A few moments ago, she'd been quietly enjoying his ministrations, comfortable and warm and boneless, but he'd set something off inside her. Her body ached and the blood seemed to be boiling in her veins. She'd already come tonight, and yet she was as turned on as if she hadn't had sex in months (which, okay, she hadn't before tonight).

His tongue caressed her with careful thoroughness, and her hands slid down and sank deeply into his hair, demanding more. The little sounds he was making indicated he had no issue with submitting to her demands. He explored her a little faster, a little more intimately, and it was so, so good...

She felt herself melting into the mattress, a helpless puddle of goo, unable to do a thing but quiver and moan and clutch his hair harder. Next time, she decided, next time she was gonna be the one unraveling him, making him moan and thrash with want under her….

"Unnnhhhh." He made a little noise of hunger and need, and she realized he was just as turned on as she was. Maybe more so. He had yet to come, after all, and he'd been taking care of her needs while ignoring his. He was probably hard and aching, desperate for release...

That image flashed in her head, she was suddenly hungrier for sex than she'd ever been in her life.

"Jack," she whispered. "Make love to me."

She heard a low laugh. "I thought that was what I was doing."

She opened her eyes and looked down at the top of his head. "You know what I mean."

But he shook his head and glanced up at her. In his lust darkened blue eyes, she saw a glint of mischief. She groaned as he lowered his head again, tongue stroking her faster, a rapid, relentless rhythm that made her inner muscles clench. She could feel herself growing wetter, could feel hot moisture on the inside of her thighs. Pleasure build higher and higher, until she was writhing wildly, her hips rising to meet his mouth with a frantic desperation.

"Ohhhhh," she moaned. "Oh, yes..."

She was going to come again, and it was going to be unbearably good. She could feel her thighs trembling, her skin growing damp with sweat. Her heart beat a frantic tattoo in her chest, and she couldn't seem to draw in enough oxygen. She'd never been so turned on in her life.

But then he slowed down the pace a bit, somehow holding her back, keeping her balanced right on the edge, trembling and dizzy and unsteady but unable to fall over the precipice into bliss. She scraped her blunt nails through his hair and whimpered.

"Please, Jack... please..."

"You want to come," he whispered. She couldn't figure out how he could talk without interrupting what he was doing to her. "Don't you?"

"No," she grumbled sarcastically. "I was wondering if you wanted to go get a pizza. Come on!"

"Soon," he promised softly. His tongue kept stroking, relentlessly, and she quivered all over, frantic for release.

"Jack... please... I have to... "

"You can wait." His hand had been tracing random patterns on top of her thigh, but now he moved it, and two of fingers slid into her body. She jerked and moaned. "I've thought about this for a long time, Chloe. Don't want to rush."

"Please..."

He licked her, his fingers thrust into her and she felt her womb squeez, deep inside, and she knew she was going to come all over his hand. She threw her head back and wailed, giving in to the feelings he was creating in her.

But once again, just as the pleasure inside her built to a peak, he lifted his head, and stopped the movement of his hand.

"Jack." She whimpered again. She couldn't help it. "Please, Jack, please please please..."

He withdrew his hand, and then he was shifting position, finally moving up over her body, pushing himself up off the bed with one arm on either side of her. She felt something hard and hot pressing against her inner thigh, and she sobbed with need, clutching desperately at his shoulders.

"You want me," he whispered in her ear. "And I want you. You know that, don't you, Chloe? My Chloe."

She nodded. She wanted Jack, and he wanted her, she knew it with a certainty she never truly imagined before today. This was right. The years of trust and loyalty and friendship coalesced into something more. They belonged together. They belonged right here, arms and legs wrapped around each other, mouths fused together, bodies moving in unison.

Her hands slid down the strong muscles of his back, settling on his ass, and then her fingers dug into him, asking wordlessly for what she needed badly. His spine flexed, then he was sinking into her, slowly and she lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips.

Another primal sound of hunger and longing fell from him. He thrust into her, all the way to the hilt, then held still, trembling beneath her hands.

"Jack." She squirmed. "Fuck me."

"I think... Maybe I…." His voice was rough and uneven. "I'm not sure... I can wait... long enough..."

"You don't have to wait." Her hands squeezed the taut muscles of his ass. "Please, Jack. Now."

She heard an indrawn breath, almost a gasp, then he withdrew and plunged into her hard. He moved in her and, at the sudden onslaught, she shuddered, overwhelmed by a pleasure that was almost too great to bear. Her hands slid up and she gripped his shoulders firmly, squeezing hard enough that she knew she'd leave bruises.

Incredible release spilled through her body and she was consumed by an intense ecstasy that filled her as completely as Jack did.

She heard herself give a brief scream as Jack gave a low, ragged groan. His hips jerked erratically and she felt his body shaking as he exploded deep inside her, spilling himself into her, burying his face against her throat and whispering her name over and over again.

As the tremors subsided, Chloe became aware of how loud their harsh breathing was in the silence of the room. How cool the air of the room was against her sweat slicked skin. How solid Jack's weight was, pressing her down into the bed.

Normally, any of these things would have been enough to grate on her nerves, but at the moment she was too wrung out and full of endorphins to care. Instead, she smiled, let her fingers trace idle patterns on the moist skin of Jack's and bent her leg, rubbing her calf over the curve of his ass.

She felt Jack smile against her neck and arched it to allow him better access as he sucked lightly on the skin where neck became shoulder.

"You know," she murmured to him, stroking her fingers gently over one particularly raised and unpleasant scar, "Once I can move, you're so going to get what's coming to you."

He raised his head and blinked, a slow smiled pulling the corners of his mouth up and making the skin around his eyes crinkle. "I sincerely look forward to that," he told her with an earnestness that made her smile.

Reaching a hand up, she brushed her fingers along the side of his face. "But for now, sleep or shower and sleep?"

"Shower alone or together?"

She snorted. "What do you think?"

Gently, he kissed her and said, "I think a shower sounds like a plan."

As he languidly began to push himself up on his elbows, she grabbed his biceps, not ready for him to pull away just yet. "Hey, hey, no rush. We've got plenty of time."

With a smile, he settled back down against her. "All the time in the world, Chloe. All the time in the world."


End file.
